Sandlot One Shots
by thats.bofinado
Summary: A bunch of one-shots with our favorite boys from all three movies. Because somehow I need to get over my undying love for them. Submit your OC's in chapter one! (Chapter Two: Wings McKay)
1. Window

**A/N: Okay, so I, like many others, have completely fallen for not only the plot of the Sandlot, but all of the boys. And they all deserve a little love. Voila, Sandlot One Shots was created. Yes, you can submit your OCs. There is a form at the bottom. This one is about Timmy from Sandlot 1, and my OC Grace. **

The cup full of rocks sat invitingly on the windowsill.

Grace stared at it, her eyes tracing over her name in brightly colored, sparkly, ink. Timmy had never been one for art, but he'd really tried his best on this one. Somehow he managed to turn a plastic cup into something she would never dream of throwing out.

Sighing, she shifted and rolled over so her back was to the window. The clock on her wall read 12:37. Grace rubbed her eyes tiredly. She hated waking Timmy up every night, like he was some sort of sleep drug in a human suit. The thing was, it was true. Her parents had tried every medicine, every wild theory, and nothing got her to sleep like her best friend.

Besides, Timmy would be more disappointed if she didn't wake him. She could lie exceedingly well, but he always saw right through her.

Grace sat up on her knees, taking a rock from the cup and fingering it. Sliding the window open, she leaned out slightly, and tossed the rock right at the window right across from hers.

Not a minute later, his window opened, and his face appeared. "Morning, Gracie," he whispered, still managing to sound cheerful with a voice scratchy from sleep. Even after just waking up, his eyes were bright, his smile stretched all the way across his face, and he was still undeniably attractive.

Grace glanced to her left and right, as if she suspected someone of watching her. "Is Tommy still asleep? I'm always scared I'll wake him."

Timmy chuckled quietly, leaning on the window with his forearms. "Tom sleeps like a teenager on a Saturday morning. Don't worry." Grace had to smile a little at his creative simile. "And she smiles! Score one for Timmy." He lightly punched the air, and she shook her head, suppressing a laugh.

"Score one million for Grace, I have all the rocks." Grace held up the cup and shook it slightly, the rocks inside making clinking sounds as they hit the plastic.

"You win, you win." Timmy held his hands up. "I'm coming."

Grace slid the window open all the way, watching him carefully as he hopped out of his house and stepped onto the thick branch of the oak tree that stood between their houses. Much like a tightrope walker, he made his way towards her. When he finally gripped the outside of her window, she got a close look at him. His eyes had sizable bags beneath them, and his face seemed unnaturally pale in the moonlight. And he still made her heart race at the speed of a NASA rocket, as he would say.

"Gracie?" He asked, chuckling. "I can't climb in if you're standing there." Grace turned bright red, embarrassed for staring, scrambling out of the way to make room for him on her bed. He jumped inside, sliding the window shut.

Shivering, she leaned against the headboard. "It's freezing out there," she commented, slipping back under her covers.

"Yeah, yeah." Timmy laid down next to her, propping his head up on his elbow. "As much as I hate to inform you, you can't fall asleep if you're talking, Gracie." His tone was teasing, like always, and she rolled her eyes at him.

There was a slight pause. "Thanks, Timmy," she said softly, resting back against his chest. His heart thumped steadily against her cheek. Her heart beat wildly from the close contact, even though it was nothing new.

"Any time, Grace," he whispered. The combination of her exhaustion and the warmth and comfort of his body against hers was enough to put her to sleep instantly.

She was dreaming. Or maybe she wasn't dreaming. It was so hard to tell sometimes. But she was on a street corner, holding a small hand. Whose hand was it again?

Right! It was Daisy's hand! But it couldn't be, because something terrible had happened to Daisy...

Wait, Daisy! Don't cross the street yet! The light is still red!

No! Daisy! Come back here, Daisy, please! Wait, stop driving! Daisy's there! Daisy! Why aren't you moving?

Is that blood? Why is it everywhere? No, please don't leave! Everything is getting foggy...

Grace sat up in her bed, gasping for air, arms wrapped around herself tightly. Her hair was nearly plastered to her forehead with sweat. Her whole body trembled and shivered.

All of a sudden, a pair of arms wrapped around her. Someone was holding her tightly, pulling her into their lap...

Grace's breath came in heavy gasps as she rested her head in the crook of Timmy's neck. The world seemed to slowly come into focus, and she slowly began to register the words he was whispering. "Shhh, Gracie, it's okay. I'm here, I'm here. Please don't cry, it's okay."

Now that she was awake, the details of the nightmare seemed to burn into her brain. She couldn't stop remembering, every day, Daisy...

"It's not fair," she finally said, voice wavering. "She was only five. She could barely pronounce my name right." The tears had come now, rolling down her cheeks like raindrops.

"I know, I know." Timmy's hold on her tightened, one hand coming up to rest against the back her head, which was still buried in his neck. "It's not fair at all."

"She was so small." Grace felt a heavy weight behind her eyes, burning and stinging. "And because of that driver, she's gone. And I can't sleep without seeing it all over again. I could have saved her, Timmy, I could have saved her..."

"Grace, stop!" His voice was so unusually harsh that she immediately stopped crying and hiccuped. He held her shoulders tightly, pushing her back so she could see his face. His eyes bore holes into hers, passionate and fierce. "This is not your fault. None of it is, none of it was. PTSD is nothing to be ashamed of." As he went on, his voice became softer, but his eyes never lost the burn they had. "And I am positive if your little sister was here, she would tell you the same thing."

"I'm sorry." Grace took in a deep breath of air, staring down at her lap. She had her wits about her now that she was done crying, and their close proximity was making her heart race. "Sorry."

Timmy shook his head slowly. "_I'm_ sorry, I shouldn't have yelled at you like that, I just..." He paused, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "I really care about you, and I hate it when it gets to you like this."

I really care about you. Grace blinked slowly, daring to meet his eyes. In all her twelve years of knowing Timmy Timmons, she had never been so terrified near him.

He looked scared too, she realized as she stared at him. Even so, she couldn't help but notice how attractive his eyes were. Bright, and twinkling, and the color of the sky...

Grace! Get a hold on yourself, girl.

Swallowing nervously, she tried not to break his gaze. "You're terrified," he noticed, lips twitching into a smile.

She narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms. "Hypocrite. You look like you're Garfield and someone just told you lasagna has ceased to exist."

Timmy laughed, a real, loud laugh. He was interrupted only by Grace pressing her lips to his. He grinned against her lips as she wrapped an arm loosely around his neck. "What was that for?" He asked when they broke apart.

"Your laugh was going to wake Mom and Dad," Grace excused, a grin of her own on her face.

Timmy smirked, a hand sliding up her side to cup her cheek. "I just might have to laugh more often then, huh?" He asked.

She kissed him again, softly but eagerly, much longer this time, feeling something akin to a bubble expanding in her chest. "Wasn't the whole point of you coming over here for me to sleep?" She asked breathlessly as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Kissing you is much more fun, though," Timmy protested, pressing another short kiss to her lips.

"Maybe tomorrow, Romeo," she promised, relaxing back into her pillows, head on his chest.

He shamelessly wrapped an arm around her waist. "I'm holding you to that, Gracie," he said.

**A/N: Okay, so hopefully it wasn't as bad as I thought it might be. Reviews are bofinado!**

**OC Form, as promised:**

**Name:**

**Age:**

**Crush:**

**Appearance:**

**Personality:**

**Situation (optional):**

**Peace!**

**-Ally**


	2. Dreaming

**A/N: So, here's my second oneshot. This is Wings/OC, from the Sandlot 3. Read and review!**

The dreams were starting to get out of hand.

Bree buried her head in the pillow, not sure if she wanted to burn the image in or out or her brain forever. Every night, she'd been dreaming about Wings. And they weren't the sort of dreams you had about your best friend.

Sure, they started out innocent enough. The first time they'd met and she'd raced him on their bikes, the last Fourth of July game they had, one camp out or another she had spent curled up in his sleeping bag... All real-life stuff. Nothing to worry over.

And then they'd gotten worse. Bree shuddered, rolling over to stare at the ceiling. It wasn't that she hated the dreams, they were actually pretty nice. It was reality that scared her.

Face it. You like him. Like, like like him, she thought.

"Nope, not gonna happen," she decided, rolling out of bed. Not on her watch, at least. She'd never risk their friendship for something so stupid as a crush.

After getting dressed in a tank top, one of his old jackets with 'MCKAY' printed across the back, and jean shorts, Bree made her way downstairs. She grabbed her mitt off the counter and called down the hallway, "I'll be at the Sandlot!"

"Have fun!" Her mom called back.

Yeah, fun.

Bree tucked her mitt under her arm and hopped on her bike as Wings pedaled out of his driveway next door. "Funny, Princess, that jacket looks familiar," he said, grinning.

"Can't imagine why." Bree shrugged, biking along next to him. His hair was messy this morning, his mom probably hadn't caught him on his way out and forced him to brush it. Brown eyes twinkled as the sun reflected off them. "After all, it's my jacket."

"Huh. Could've sworn I've seen it before," Wings teased, biking faster. "Race yah!"

Bree rolled her eyes at his insatiable competitive streak. "You always beat me anyways, you cheater," she grumbled, but cycled faster after him anyways.

When she made it to the field, he already had his helmet on and was taking practice swings. "Twenty six seconds, Princess," Q called to her from the outfield. "You're getting worse."

"Hate you!" She yelled at Wings, moving to her spot on third base.

"Hate you too!" He called back.

Timber wound up and threw a fastball right down the middle. CRACK! Bree watched in respect as the ball soared into right field and dropped down right in front of Roll. Roll through it to Wok in right center, who got it to Two-Ton on second. Wings slid, and his feet touched the plate just before Two-Ton tagged him. "SAFE!" DP shouted, moving his mask up off his face. "SAFE!"

Later on that night, Bree sat criss-cross in the treehouse, her head rested on Wings' shoulder. Ryan was standing up near the back, a flashlight tilted towards his chin, telling the ancient story of the Beast. "And he fed him whole sides of beef! And the dog liked it."

Bree shivered. No matter how many times Squints, his kids, and all the boys had told this story, it still freaked her out. Wordlessly, Wings wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "We all know the Beast was really just a dog, Princess," he whispered, his breath tickling her hair.

"It's freaky," she protested quietly. "Whole sides of beef! Two-Ton couldn't eat a whole side of beef."

Wok, who had been listening in on their conversation, smirked as he added, "And Two-Ton's-"

"Fat," Roll finished.

"That's it!" Two-Ton roared. "Cremation or open casket? Think hard, IT'S THE LAST CHOICE YOU'LL MAKE!" Wok and Roll high-fived each other before hopping out of the treehouse window. Two-Ton tried to follow them, but he couldn't fit through.

"Guys!" Ryan pouted.

Tommy, who had almost never heard the story, was paying rapt attention. "I'm listening."

Bree closed her eyes, snuggling up against Wings' shoulder. He was so warm...

The dream was there again. It was the two of them, Wings and her. She couldn't really tell where they were, but it didn't matter, because he had that blinding smile on his face. They were talking, but the sound was fuzzed, and she couldn't hear a word. He was leaning closer towards her, and she could feel his breath against her face. His hand sneaked around to the back of her neck-

"Ah!" Sitting straight up in the sleeping bag, Bree took three deep breaths in and out. She carded a hand through her sleep-messed hair. Remembering where she was, she glanced around to make sure no one had been awakened by her shout. Sure enough, everyone was dead asleep. And snoring.

Bree made her way through the mess of sleeping bags to the balcony. Maybe the fresh air would help clear her mind. The night was clear, and she took in a fourth deep breath.

"Nightmare?" A voice behind her asked. Can't I have a moment to myself? she wondered.

"I guess you could call it that." Bree turned to face her best friend, trying to hide her surprise. "Needed to clear my head."

"Hey... I'm here if you need to talk." His voice was rough from sleep, and the fingers brushing her arm were so warm, and damn you Wings.

"Thanks." She felt a smile light up her face as he wrapped an arm around her. Best friends, best friends, best friends.

The next day, she stood at the plate, swinging a bat back and forth. "Come on, Timber, show me what you got!"

"Denunez taught me his heater last week!" Timber grinned, flexing his arm. "You're my test dummy!"

"I'm not a dummy!" Bree protested.

"Scientifically speaking, Princess is a living breathing human, therefore having a higher resemblance to a guinea pig," Q reasoned.

"Throw the ball, Timber, before my clothes go outta style!" Wings complained.

"They already are, Wings!" Wok and Roll chorused.

Bree grinned despite herself, getting into a batter's stance. They'd ditched the helmets today, because one of them had the ears ripped off and they were getting it fixed. She wasn't worried, though. Timber had pretty much gotten over his control problems.

A deeply concentrated look on his face, Timber wound up and threw Denunez's famous heater. It went so fast Bree could barely see it, but she knew there was a problem - the ball never made it over home plate...

"Princess!"

THUD.

Knocked back by the force of the pitch, Bree crumpled to the ground, clutching her shoulder. All she could see was red, and her entire body was in pain. Her head throbbed from where she'd hit it on the ground, and she barely registered all the boys gathering around her.

"Oh my god! I hit her!"

"Q, what do we do?"

"Oh my god! I hit her!"

"Princess! Bree! Can you hear me?"

"She looks bad, guys. Real bad."

Bree groaned, trying to keep from drifting off. Her eyes fluttered open, and there he was again, in her dreams. Wings. Eyebrows furrowed like he was worried or something. Bree brushed it off. God damnit, did she ever stop dreaming?

Per the usual, he wrapped his arms around her (more like cradled, that was weird). Her mouth met his in a soft kiss (like always) and she felt her stomach flop (like always). But this time, his lips were much warmer, and the hand on her shoulder felt so real...

Shit, Bree! You're not dreaming!

She pulled away suddenly, mind clear, face bright red. She could hear the boys whistling and cat-calling in the background, but her whole attention was focused on Wings. Wings, and his twinkling brown eyes scrunched in worry, his messy blond hair, his lips - stop, Bree.

"Woah," he said softly.

"I - I'm sorry," she stuttered. "I th-thought I was... dreaming..." She realized her mistake too late. But when she looked back up to meet Wings' eyes, his smile spread from ear to ear.

"You dream about kissing me often, Princess?" His face was still so close that their noses were almost touching. And he wasn't rejecting her and it wasn't awkward. He was grinning, grinning that little Wings grin of his that made her want to kiss him senseless. And so she did.

Maybe those dreams weren't so bad after all.

**A/N: And that's chapter two! Review, lovely readers. And don't forget to submit OC's!**

**Reviews are bofinado. **

**-Ally**


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